New Vegas Repairs
by Kazbar
Summary: The story of an NCR repairman, and the changes of the world around him during and after the war for the Mojave.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_In the year 2281, times had become turbulent in the Mojave._

_Four years after the First Battle of Hoover Dam, where the New California Republic managed to hold the Dam through a combination of tactical genius, a well-placed trap and bullheadedness on the part of the Legate of Caesar's Legion, tensions were higher than ever. The Legion had been rebuilding, growing stronger by the day, and were now lead by a new Legatus, a man by the name of Lanius, who was as ruthless and powerful as they came. Though the NCR maintained a strong presence at the Dam, they were too widespread across the rest of the Mojave, allowing the Legion to begin trickling East through the cracks._

_At the same time, the NCR had to deal with other problems. A large band of raiders under the name of "The Fiends" had amassed in Vault 3, close to the NCR's main base of operations, Camp McCarran, hassling the trade routes. Doing the same were the "Powder Gangers", a group of convicts that had usurped the NCR from it's own correctional facility. As well, Quarry Junction, where the NCR had been gathering limestone for the production of barricades, had been overrun with deathclaws, halting production and cutting off one of the Mojave's main trade routes. And slowly sapping it's funds away all the while was the city of New Vegas, where the soldier's of the NCR would go, and come away with empty pockets. The city itself was reportedly run by one "Mr. House", who none had met, but all had known the presence of, due to the large number of Securitrons protecting and maintaining order on The Strip._

_As these problems grew, a small but remarkable story was reported from a minuscule settlement known as Goodsprings; a Mojave Express courier, en route to a delivery, was found shot in the head, and yet ended up not only surviving, but fully recovering. No one would know it at the time, but this event would shape the history of New Vegas and the surrounding area for many years to come._

_The Courier slowly made a name for himself from the start, though; he saved the town which saved him, driving off a group of Powder Gangers that had planned on destroying Goodsprings. Next, he made his way to the town of Primm, which had also been hassled by Powder Gangers. There, he wiped out the Gangers who had a hold on the city, and soon recruited a sheriff by the name of Meyers to protect the town. He then helped clear the roads around Mojave Outpost, at least lessening the strain on the caravan's going through there._

_Indeed, the Courier, at this point, was making it quite clear that he would be an important member of whichever of the Mojave's factions that could recruit him. And this was only the beginning of his tumultuous journey.  
><em>

_But this is not his story._

_Instead, this is the story of an NCR repairman, entering the Mojave for the first time to repair a broken Auto-Doc. Though he could probably tell the story better than I could. So we'll let him do the talking.  
><em>


	2. Building Up

_1. Building Up_

_My name is Paul Kenner. Most people skip the first part._

_I was born on June 1st, in the year 2250. I was raised my whole life in the comfort of the New California Republic, living in Shady Sands most of my life. My mom and dad were both accounts managers for the Crimson Caravan when they were alive. Being raised around the Caravan, I took to the art of repairs quickly, though my folks home-schooled me along the way, making sure I wasn't too uneducated. Eventually I ended up enlisting into the NCR's military, but through a combination of being a crappy shot and having a hard time marching long distances on my left knee, I didn't make the cut for the combat units. When they learned about my repair skills, however, they put me straight into that field. Somewhere along the line I got especially good at repairing Auto-Doc units, and so that sort of became my specialty._

_Well, that's my backstory._

_That specialty ended up being the reason I was sent West into the Mojave. As the story goes, during a scouring of the old Camp Golf building's underground storage, they ran across a strange Auto-Doc model no one had ever seen before at the time. It was manufactured as an Auto-Doc "Mark IX", and instead of being one of the traditional models with a central control unit and multiple "arms" capable of surgery, the thing looked more like one of those old single-unit preservation shelters that are apparently scattered around the streets out East. Since no one already in the Mojave knew what to do with it, I suppose it only made sense that they sent me out to take a look at it and get it in running order. Of course, if I had known all the shit that was going to go down after showing up, I'd have probably tried to skip, or have them send that prick Ipson instead. God knows how much the guy kept whining the day they gave me the assignment._

_That day started off so casual, too. I had just finished fixing the old Auto-Doc unit at the local clinic a couple days before, and with the special title of "NCR Auto-Doc Repair Specialist" (which always rolled right off the tongue) like I had, that meant I probably wasn't going to get another bit of work for a couple of weeks. So I did what I always did after getting paid; got sloshed. Of course, that was just the night of; the day after, once the hangover had faded a bit, I studied up on more of those old medical journals._

_See, when working with Auto-Docs, you can't just jump into the job like you're fixing up an old Protectron or terminal. Sure, it's kind of similar; just a bunch of metal and wires, all made to work by programming subroutines that tell them what to do. The difference with an Auto-Doc, though, is that you need to know how to make those subrountines tell the Auto-Doc to perform surgery, and if you don't know how to perform the surgery yourself, you're setting up to have the machine's next patient come out with at least one bloody stump that used to be a limb. Don't quite know how I managed to avoid actually playing the role of doctor while back in California, but I guess the number of medics there outnumbered the problems, which just goes to show you how tame the area had gotten over the years in comparison to other parts of the wasteland._

_But anyway, that day I woke up around ten, got myself some of that two hundred year-old Salisbury Steak and brahmin milk for breakfast, and went to reading at a table when an NCR MP showed up with a small stack of papers. Over the course of the next two minutes he told me I was being shipped to the Mojave, and was leaving with a Crimson Caravan shipment at 1 PM. I tried asking about specifics, or about speaking with any of the higher-ups, but apparently the entire ordeal had been authorized up to Kimball and I was ready to go, in an official sense._

_Talk about a kick in the pants. One minute I was eating breakfast, not expecting work for at least another week, and the next I had about two-and-a-half hours to get my gear together and head off to the Mojave, which I had only been hearing bad things about. I guess I was so used to the NCR's paper-passing bureaucracy that I didn't figure it would authorize a bathroom break quickly, let alone deploying me without giving me a heads up. Hard to say it hadn't ever crossed my mind though; news from out East had been talking about how Caesar's Legion had been gathering strength out there, and every day more units were being sent out. I didn't really have time to wonder too much though, seeing as I had to gather up my equipment and some other supplies. Luckily, all my gear was already packed up in that big old knapsack, as per usual, and I had stored up a ton of old foods for rations (because, as my dad always said, in the wasteland, you never know for sure). So once I got them all together and packed up, I had time to talk the situation over with the other few guys in my crew. Ipson, like I said, was a prick, and the moment I got done telling them he started moaning and whining about how he had always wanted to get to visit New Vegas and win it big. At the time (again, not knowing what would become of this damned trip), I wouldn't have traded it for most things after reading the itinerary; a big fat bonus was coming my way if I could get this Auto-Doc Mark IX to work. So I just ignored him, same as I did most of the time anyway._

_The other two guys, Heralds and Lazlo, were a lot more subdued about the situation. Both had no doubt also heard about all the terrible shit going down in the Mojave, and the constant propaganda about the horrors of the Legion did nothing to help this. But as we talked we agreed that this was a great opportunity for me, and so they wished me luck and off I went to the meet up with the Caravan._

_Got there with time to spare, and before I knew it we were off and going. As civilization disappeared behind me, I had a few doubts and worries, but overall I was more excited and rushed at that point than anything._

_The roads to the Mojave were pretty quiet, all told. The NCR had many outposts and bases along the way, keeping order. A small group of mole rats came running up to the side of the caravan at one point, but the caravan guards filled them with holes before they could do anything interesting._

_Even if anything had happened, this ain't the story of my trip to the Mojave. This is about what happened once I got there. And I suppose that's where I should get to._


End file.
